


Something For The Children (Of All Ages)

by tattooeddevil



Series: Barefoot Days [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is December 1986, and John is taking the boys to Bobby’s for Christmas. Sammy and Dean are excited to spend a few days with their uncle Bobby, especially after the awesome summer they had with him, and John is just looking forward to the eggnog. Apparently, so do Rufus and Ellen and Bill Harvelle with their new baby Jo. Add a small indoor pool, a little too much punch in the eggnog and someone will giggle.</p>
<p>This is a timestamp to my story <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/503199">Barefoot Days</a>, but this can stand alone perfectly fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something For The Children (Of All Ages)

“Can we go camping again?”

John instantly feels bad for having to let Sammy down. He was so excited about his stay with Bobby over the summer and even more excited when John told him they’d be spending Christmas with him too, and now he is going to get disappointed, and they haven’t even left the state of Oklahoma yet. He’s trying to come up with something to say when Dean jumps in first.

“No, Sammy, it’s way too cold for camping! You don’t wanna freeze into a popsicle, do you? Frozen and stiff and sitting on top of a stick?”

To John’s surprise, Sammy scrunches up his nose and shakes his head frantically.

“No! I don’t wanna be a popsicle!”

Dean nudges him with a smirk and sticks out his tongue as if to lick Sammy.

“You’ll be a Samsicle. Yum!”

Sammy shrieks and Dean dives on top of him over the back seat to tickle him to death. And just like that, John doesn’t have to disappoint his youngest son a day before Christmas. He makes a mental note to buy Dean a bigger present this year.

They still have a long way to go, all the way up through Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska before they reach South Dakota, but John is sticking to the highway so they make better time. The 35 to Kansas City, the 29 along the Iowa state line to Omaha and Sioux City, and then the 229 to Sioux Falls. He hates the interstates, but both boys were so excited to go to Bobby’s and, if he’s honest with himself, John could use some time off too. Just a few days without monsters, demons, and death.

It’s a twelve hours drive, and John would have loved to take a break for a night, but he can’t. Not when there are two beaming little faces in the back seat and excited chatter accompanying them. It’s all about Rumsfeld, camping, swimming, playing hide and seek, barbecuing, running around the yard, helping Uncle Bobby and a million other things. It makes John a little sad to realize that months later, they are still equally excited about the summer as they were the first day after they left Bobby’s. His boys don’t have very much to be excited about, and he is mainly to blame for that.

Right there, speeding down a dreary highway in Kansas, he makes a promise to himself to treat the boys to something fun more often. If only to see them smile as wide as they do now. And he’s starting with Christmas.

“Hey boys, did you finish your lists for Santa yet?”

“Yeah. But Dad, are you sure Santa will get them on time?”

John smiles at Dean through the rearview mirror. Dean’s face is creased with worry, and even Sammy is looking a little skeptical, even if he is only copying his big brother.

“I will personally make sure he gets them on time.”

That seems to placate the boys, at least for now. John knows he hasn’t heard the last of it if he doesn’t actually take action soon. He stops for lunch somewhere between Omaha and Missouri Valley, and makes sure both boys eat their fill so they will sleep for a few hours at least. He makes them hand over their Christmas lists, and he studies them in silence while he makes his way to Sioux City and beyond. Sammy wakes up around Elk Point, Dean follows when they reach Beresford. Almost there.

When John pulls up to Bobby’s house, both boys are glued to the window to see if they can spot Rumsfeld. The puppy is barking excitedly from the porch, and when the car comes to a stand, Dean fumbles the door open and lets Sammy scramble out. Sammy sprints up the porch and throws himself on the puppy to hug it. Dean follows at a more sedate pace, but John can see he is jumping at the bits to play with the dog too. Both his boys asked Santa for a puppy this year, but no matter how much John wants to get them what they want, a dog just isn’t very practical when you’re living in a car and dingy motel rooms.

John gets out of the car and grabs the bags from the trunk. He stuffs the lists in his pocket before trudging up the porch and knocking on Bobby’s door. He can hear people talking on the other side of the door before it opens, but he can’t make out who it is. When the door opens, it’s not to reveal Bobby, but a smiling Bill Harvelle.

“John Winchester!”

Bill pulls him into a man-hug and John laughs.

“Bill Harvelle. Long time no see!”

They both take a step back to look at each other for a moment. John knows Bill from the life, a hunter like him. They’ve worked together once or twice, and Bill taught John a thing or two about what’s out there and how to kill it.

“How’s the wife?”

Bill beams at him.

“Wife and kid!”

“No way, congratulations! Boy or girl?”

“Girl. Little Joanna Beth Harvelle.”

“That’s great, Bill. Real great.”

“Thanks. Where are your boys?”

“Probably petting my dog to death.”

Bobby’s gruff voice comes from behind Bill, and both John and Bill turn to look at him. Bobby is smiling and John relaxes a little. John knows Bobby doesn’t agree with the way he raises his boys and it always hangs between them, but Bobby greets him with a shoulder slap and a head jerk.

“You warming up the outside or are you gonna come in?”

John pokes his head around the door to the porch and calls out to Dean and Sammy.

“Get inside, boys!”

Dean jumps to his feet and pulls Sammy up with him. Rumsfeld darts past John, Bill, and Bobby to somewhere inside the house, and both boys follow him, giggling. But when Sammy’s eyes catch Bobby, all thoughts of Rumsfeld are gone and he throws himself at Bobby’s legs.

“Uncle Bobby!”

Bobby laughs and bends down to ruffle Sammy’s hair. Sammy looks up at him with the biggest smile John has seen on him in weeks, and it physically hurts his heart. He knows Sammy doesn’t like being hauled around and that he is going through the everything’s-my-dad’s-fault phase, but it still feels wry to see his little boy brighten up at the sight of Rumsfeld, Bobby, and the prospect of fun and games.

Dean waits until Sammy has let go of Bobby’s legs to step forward. Bobby bends down to give the boy a hug and Dean wraps his arms tightly around Bobby’s neck.

“Hi Uncle Bobby.”

“Hey boy, it’s good to see you.”

When Bobby lets go of Dean, things are slightly awkward for a moment; John doesn’t know what to say, Bobby knows John’s uncomfortable, and Bill has no clue what is going on. The boys are blissfully unaware, though, and when Rumsfeld barks once and Sammy playfully barks back, the tension is broken. Bobby steps aside and gestures them all inside.

“Come on in, Ellen and Jo are waiting for you.”

John puts his suitcase near the stairs and hangs up his coat before following everyone into Bobby’s living room. Ellen is sitting cross-legged on the couch with a wiggling baby in her lap; Dean and Sammy standing in front of her, both of them gazing down at baby Jo in awe and wonder.

“She’s so tiny.”

Ellen laughs and turns Jo a little so she’s facing the boys.

“This is Joanna Beth. Jo, this is Dean and that’s Sammy. Say hi.”

Jo looks at the two boys with wide, curious eyes and babbles something unintelligible, making Dean and Sammy giggle.

“She’s funny.”

John blushes on his son’s behalf.

“Sammy!”

But Ellen laughs again and ruffles Sammy’s hair.

“You’re right, she is funny. But you know what? You were once this funny too.”

Sammy scrunches up his nose in disgust and shakes his head.

“No way, I was never a baby. Was I, Daddy?”

John chuckles at his son’s confused face.

“I’m afraid you were, Sammy. But you’re a big boy now, daddy’s little soldier.”

He ignores the look Bobby shoots him in favor of taking a seat next to Ellen and making a show of relaxing into the couch. The silence is tense, but he refuses to acknowledge it, not right now anyway, not with Christmas just a day away. Instead, he watches his boys with baby Jo and Ellen. Dean is shaking Jo’s tiny little hand softly and Sammy is stroking her hair. They both ask Ellen random questions about babies and diapers and poop and eating and sleeping, and it helps to lift the pressure in the room. Everyone goes back to what they were doing before the Winchester’s came in.

There’s a loud crash in the kitchen that startles everyone. Baby Jo starts crying and, without a word, Bill holds out his hands to take the child from Ellen so she can go see what is going on with Bobby. John sighs softly, suddenly he misses Mary something fierce. They had that; that silent communication, that understanding that runs deeper than blood, that strong bond that only soul-mates have. He shouldn’t be here for Christmas; he should have been with his family in their home in Kansas with a big tree and a pile of gifts underneath it for their sons and each other. Cuddling in front of the fire, eating together, drinking eggnog after the kids went to bed, making love in front of tree with only the lights to illuminate them.

“John?”

Bill’s voice rouses him from his thoughts. Bill is looking at him questioningly and John has to clear his throat and shake himself to get rid of the ghosts of the past.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He catches Dean looking at him funnily and he tries on a smile for reassurance. He guesses he misses by a mile, going by Dean’s expression. Before he can try again, Dean’s climbed up in his lap and settled against his chest with his head leaning on his shoulder. He wiggles around a little, gets comfortable, and then sighs deeply.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“What did you ask from Santa?”

The question takes him by surprise completely, and he needs a few moments to come up with an answer.

“You didn’t ask for a new baby, did you? I don’t want another baby to wake me up in the middle of the night. Sammy was okay, but I like sleeping now.”

John and Bill bark out a laugh at Dean’s tormented tone, while Sammy soothes baby Jo when the sudden sound startles her. Dean looks up at John through his lashes with a small smirk on his face, and John realizes he said it on purpose, just to make his dad feel better. John hugs him tightly for a second, immensely grateful for Mary’s observant nature that is so present in their oldest son, before tickling Dean in his sides. Dean shrieks and wiggles free from John’s arms with loud giggles and hiccups. The ruckus attracts Rumsfeld, who starts barking excitedly at Dean and when Dean is in a heap on the floor, Sammy jumps on top of him and they roll around with the puppy playfully.

Just then, Bobby and Ellen come in from the kitchen with two big bowls of eggnog. Bobby’s shirt is a little stained and Ellen smirks when Bill lifts an eyebrow.

“Bobby started on the eggnog a little early.”

Bobby scowls at her mockingly before setting his bowl next to hers on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, you went a little overboard with the rum there, darling.”

Ellen laughs, but doesn’t deny Bobby’s playful accusation.

The new arrival catches Dean and Sammy’s eye and the boys shuffle to the table to check out the large bowls. Dean looks up at John, his tiny little forefinger already hovering over the eggnog, ready to dip in and taste. John shakes his head firmly though.

“No Dean, no tasting the eggnog. That’s for the grownups, not the kids.”

Dean pouts and Sammy copies his big brother and does the same. John almost laughs, but he knows he needs to be firm to get the message across. It’s a staring contest, but John wins in the end. Bobby placates the boys by handing them each a paper cup.

“Lemonade is in the fridge in the plastic bottle. Dean, I am putting you in charge of pouring the cups, okay?”

Dean puffs his chest out proudly and nods.

“Yes, Uncle Bobby. I can do that.”

“Good. Now, who wants some cookies while we wait for Rufus?”

The eggnog really is spiked with enough rum to floor a giant, but they all dig in with gusto. John figures they can all use a night of getting drunk on eggnog and forget about hunting and monsters for a while. By the time Rufus shows up, half of the eggnog is gone, and Dean and Sammy are nauseous from all the cookies and lemonade. It occurs to John he maybe should have kept an eye on them, but it’s too late now. Rufus brings more rum and a bottle of whiskey and even a few presents for everyone.

“Now get me a glass so I can catch up.”

Bill laughs drunkenly.

“It’s not even your holiday, Turner! Stay away from the Christmas eggnog.”

Rufus scowls at him with an eye roll.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t participate in the alcohol side of the festivities. Opportunism and that.”

Rufus takes a spot next to Ellen, and starts cooing at the baby softly. When everyone else in the room falls silent in shock, he raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

John struggles out of his seat and wobbles over to the eggnog bowls.

“I need more alcohol for this cute shit.”

“Oooooh, Daddy, you said shit!”

John turns around to find his youngest son pointing at him with a shocked expression on his face while his oldest son is behind Sammy trying not to laugh at John’s mistake. Bobby, Ellen, Bill, and Rufus wear the same expression, and John knows he is never going to win this one. He sighs and gestures to everyone in the room with a sweep of his hand.

“Go on, laugh.”

The immediate bark of laughter from everyone in the room scares baby Jo again, and she starts crying.

“I think that’s my cue to put her down for the night. Don’t drink all the eggnog while I’m gone!”

As Ellen disappears upstairs, John ruffles Sammy’s hair and settles back down on the couch.

“That was a bad thing of me to say, Sammy. Don’t repeat it, okay?”

Sammy actually rolls his eyes, reminding John he needs to talk to Dean about doing things his little brother copies.

“Yeah Dad, I know. It’s a bad word and if I say it, Santa won’t bring me my presents.”

Sometimes the holidays make such good excuses to keep his children in line.

“Exactly.”

Bobby catches his eye from across the room and gestures to the gifts under the tree. He follows it up with what John can only describe as the worst example of charades he’s ever seen, but he gets the gist of it. He nods; yes, he still needs to hit the shops for presents for his boys tomorrow. Or maybe it was the best example of charades ever. Huh.

“Uncle Bobby?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“Can we go swimming again?”

Bobby smiles at Sammy, and it’s not the apologetic smile John expects. Instead, there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that John’s never seen there before. He’s not sure if he should be getting scared or excited. Bobby seems to lean towards the latter though; he leans into Sammy and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone.

“What if I can do one better?”

Sammy practically lights up at the prospect of something that’s even better than going swimming, even though he has no idea what it is. Just because Bobby says it, Sammy loves it already.

“Like what, Uncle Bobby?”

“How about I set up the pool right here in the living room?”

Sammy eyes grow comically wide with sheer excitement and he starts to vibrate with glee. Dean joins his little brother in staring up at Bobby with big eyes and John laughs. Who knew **that** is what it would take to get his sons to quiet down?

Rufus declares Bobby a fool, and Bill calls him insane, but Bobby heads upstairs with both boys hot on his heels and brings down the small pool. He clears enough room - everyone mumbling about stubborn morons and old fools, but they help anyway - and puts up the pool. He enlists Bill to get the hose inside and hook it up to the kitchen tap so he can fill the pool, and when Ellen comes back she makes sure the boys take enough time to shed most of their clothes before they jump in.

By the time everyone is dripping with water and there’s more of it on the floor of Bobby’s living room than in the pool, John decides it’s time to quit the eggnog and put his boys to bed before he can’t stand up anymore. He hauls himself off the wet couch and grabs one boy under each arm. They both shriek with laughter and start to wiggle in his hold. Their wet bodies are slippery, but he manages to carry them upstairs without dropping them or falling over himself. He keeps an eye on them as they dry themselves off, and then he tucks them into bed, both boys together.

“Okay boys, be good and go straight to sleep. No funny business.”

“Yes Dad, we’ll be good.”

Sammy nods solemnly.

“Yeah, Santa hasn’t brought our gifts yet, so we’ll be good until then.”

John laughs at Sammy’s logic, and kisses them both on their foreheads. He tucks the blanket a little tighter around them and kisses them again. Sammy scrunches up his nose in disgust, but Dean just smiles up at him.

“Goodnight Dad.”

“Goodnight boys.”

John turns off the light, and leaves the door open a few inches so he can hear them should something happen. He is about to turn and go downstairs when Dean calls out to him.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Santa is gonna come, right? He’s not gonna skip us?”

And just like that, John feels like an ass. Too many Christmases spent in seedy motel rooms, too many presents forgotten, too many lists gotten lost, and too many crappy gifts. He swears again to make this the best Christmas they have had in a long time. The first step was taken by coming to Bobby’s, the second step will be securing amazing gifts for his boys tomorrow.

“He’s gonna come, Dean, I promise.”

“Okay Dad.”

Too many promises broken. John sighs and bumps his head against the wall a few times. He needs to step up his game right now, because there will come a day when Dean and Sammy won’t take his bullshit anymore.

“What did that wall ever do to you?”

John looks up at Ellen’s amused voice. She smiles at him knowingly and, he chooses to just go with it for a change.

“I’m going out early tomorrow, can you watch the boys?”

Ellen nods and rubs his arm with a small smile.

“Sure thing, John. Just make sure Santa goes above and beyond this year.”

John chuckles gratefully.

“I will. Thanks Ellen.”

“Don’t mention it. Now come back down and drink away that frown. I think Bobby is this close to getting in the pool himself.”

He follows Ellen back downstairs and, sure enough, Bobby is sitting on a chair next to the pool in just his shirt and boxers, his feet dangling in the water. Rufus is in a similar state, and Bill is standing in the middle of the room still fully clothed, but looking guiltily at Ellen. Ellen rolls her eyes with a laugh and starts taking her shoes off.

“Just do it, Harvelle.”

Really, the only normal thing to do here is join in. He puts an extra chair by the pool, strips off his shoes, socks, and jeans and sits down with his feet in the water. Huh, it is really nice and warm. And if he doesn’t think about the fact that they’re five adults sitting around drinking eggnog in their underwear with their feet in a kiddy pool, he might actually not burst into uncontrollable laughter.

And then the next dilemma announces itself.

“We’re out of eggnog.”

Bill looks at John, John looks at Rufus, Rufus looks at Ellen, and Ellen sighs and gestures to Bobby to get up.

“Seriously, what would you do without me?”

“Crash and burn, baby, crash and burn.”

Ellen sticks her tongue out at Bill and drags Bobby to his own kitchen to whip up another batch of eggnog. A comfortable silence settles over the three remaining men, and John suddenly feels tired. It has been a very long time since he got to just sit and relax while getting drunk. No anger, no stress, no sadness. Just a pleasant buzz and his kids safe and asleep upstairs.

“Bobby, you bastard!”

Ellen laughs and Bobby giggles. _Giggles_. Rufus meets John’s eyes and John shrugs.

“I heard it too, he fucking giggled.”

Ellen comes in carrying a new bowl of eggnog, followed by a blushing Bobby with a second bowl. Bill nudges John and smirks at Bobby.

“Hey there, chuckles.”

Bobby scowls at him and everyone cracks up at his darkening blush.

“You so giggled!”

“I did not!”

Another round of laughter goes off and John wonders for just a second if they really should start on those two new bowls, though he doesn’t complain when Rufus hands him a new glass filled to the brim. It’s Christmas.  
Needless to say, the next morning comes way too early and way too bright.  
Bobby is already downstairs when John comes down, and he offers John scrambled eggs and coffee. John foregoes the eggs, but takes the coffee gratefully. If he’s going to survive the Christmas Day shopping rush, he is going to need all the caffeine and energy he can get.

Dean’s list is easy enough. He asked for a few new comics and a leather jacket like his dad, but he’d also scribbled something down that he crossed out later and John is dead set on getting him just that. A Hub Cap Transformers action figure. John knows Dean crossed it out the week before, when he heard John arguing with the motel owner over money, but he knows a little kid shouldn’t have to worry about things like that. Dean is getting his action figure.

Sammy had a short list; a puppy - John wants to so badly, but they really can’t keep a dog on the road -, a Superman t-shirt - if he can find it, he’s buying it -, and a Lego airport set that John is definitely getting him.  
The mall is crowded, and it only takes about three minutes for the headache from the hangover to come back full force as a migraine and his stomach to roll dangerously. He silently curses Ellen and Bobby and the eggnog - he chuckles at the thought of Bobby giggling, that will **never** get old - and makes his way to the toy store, where it is even more crowded, if that is at all possible. He manages to buy both his boys the gifts they want and even though the line for gift wrapping is endless, he feels accomplished. He just hopes Dean and Sammy will love their gifts.

He needn’t have worried; when the boys tear into their presents that evening, their little faces light up like the Christmas lights in the tree and they hug their father like they’ve never hugged him before. It was worth the hangover, the excruciating shopping trip and the too many dollars he spent.

When Sammy whispers “I love you, Daddy” in his ear, he knows he’s done good. Dean sits and plays with his action figure – “it’s not a doll, dad, sheesh!” - for hours with Sammy building his airport next to him and baby Jo in her bouncy chair next to them, trying to catch their attention by making sounds and waving her arms. There’s food, drink, cookies, cake, presents, laughter, warmth, and hugs.

It’s the best Christmas they had since Mary died.

When they leave the next day, Ellen hugs him tight and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“See you next year, yeah?”

John nods with a wide smile, but deep down he knows it’s not likely to happen. Still, it’s a nice thought, and he is going to do his damndest to make it happen.


End file.
